


The Lost Beauty

by Ethereal_Wishes



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Curse Breaking, F/M, Fairy Tale Curses, Post-Regina's First Dark Curse, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 15:25:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereal_Wishes/pseuds/Ethereal_Wishes
Summary: S1 AU - Belle French, infamously known as the town lunatic, has outlandish delusions about living another life.  The result of her behavior is from an unfortunate childhood accident.  Her father's bankruptcy results in her therapy and care being dismantled.  Spending twenty-eight years living with two sets of memories has taken its toll on her health, but Belle hopes she can convince someone to believe her.  After her dog has a mishap with Mr. Gold, she insists on repaying him.  Against his better judgment, he suggests she clean out his rose garden, but one favor leads to another, and he finds himself questioning his own existence and reality, as a broken girl begins to put things into perfect perspective for him.  He finds matters become more complicated with the deranged beauty when a blonde woman in a yellow bug arrives in town.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moonlight91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlight91/gifts).



The Lost Beauty

A/AN: This was a random idea and will be a slight S1 AU with different elements.

Linden Gold – town lawyer and pawnbroker – had little interaction with the occupants of Storybrooke, aside from the mayor of their small town, which he had a low tolerance for. He disliked most people and social functions. There was little in life he didn't loathe. Linden was satisfied with his mundane existence – get up at 6:30, arrive at Granny's for coffee and breakfast by eight, open shop by nine, close at five, arrive home at 5:15, spend time in his workshop until eight, and retire to bed by ten. Life was predictable, and he relished it. However, on occasion he'd find himself reaching for the opposite side of the bed when the sandman's enchantment was still strong, foolishly realizing no one was there nor had anyone ever occupied that space, as he awoke. At the ripe age of forty-five, Linden had never had a significant other of any type.

One morning after leaving Granny's, he was crossing Main, only to be accosted by a large dark lab with muddy paws. The well – put – together pawnbroker stared down at the canine, wagging his tail excitedly. Gold was so startled by the encounter, his ruined suit hadn't yet registered within his mind.

"Avonlea! No! Don't do that! Bad dog!"

The dog turned its head, bounding in the direction of the voice. Linden cocked his head slightly, scanning the area in search of its source. His heart sank as he observed, Belle French – the town lunatic – heading in his direction.

Belle was a woman of about twenty-five – brown haired and beautiful. However, as the result of a childhood accident, she'd developed a brain injury which caused her to have outlandish delusions. She'd been admitted and readmitted to the town asylum beneath the hospital but her father, Moe French – town florist – had recently gone bankrupt. He was unable to continue providing for her care and therapy, leaving her at the mercy of the town's scrutiny.

He'd watched the young woman throughout the years, heart filled with pity for her unfortunate circumstances. Linden cared little about others, but she was different. Something about her made him feel … He banished the thought from his mind as the young woman approached him – the Labrador trailing behind her.

"Mr. Gold, I do apologize for Avonlea's naughty behavior. Perhaps I can offer to pay for your dry cleaning." Belle clasped her hands modestly at her waist. Linden assessed her appearance – baggy blue t-shirt, holy gray cardigan, ripped jeans, and ragged sneakers. He knew Belle French didn't have a dime to her name nor would she be able to afford his dry cleaning.

He held up his hand in protest. "It's no matter, Ms. French. Dogs will be dogs. I can simply go home and change," he excused the mishap, patting the eager lab's head.

Her somber expression stretched into a wide smile. "But, Mr. Gold, I must simply repay you somehow. There has to be something I can do to amend this," she insisted.

Linden wasn't sure what possessed him to make an offer to such a queer girl with farfetched fantasies, but he felt an unseen force making it impossible to quell his tongue.

"How are you with yard work, Ms. French? I have a rose garden which has been quite neglected for sometime. How about you come over this Saturday and help clean it out for me? We'll consider the entire situation remedied in exchange for a bit of weed pulling and planting," he proposed.

"I'm quite skilled at it, Mr. Gold. I'll have your roses looking fresh and new in no time," the brunette replied eagerly.

"Very well, I'll see you at nine on Saturday. Bring your work clothes," he returned, cane poised in front of him.

"No need to worry about that, I'm already wearing them," she beamed proudly, pointing at her oversized shirt. Gold felt his cheeks flame with humiliation from his uncouth remark. Ms. French hadn't seemed to notice his blunder, opting to wave goodbye to him and head in the opposite direction, her dog in tow. He stood there for a moment, frozen in place, as if she'd cast a spell over him.

'I think you owe me a story.', a feminine voice with an alluring accent resounded within his mind. He dispelled it, heading in the direction of his shop. Thankfully he had a change of clothing in the back room. His usual mundane workday was filled with thoughts of a certain beautiful woman – a woman he must never initiate anything with.

Belle French would arrive on Saturday, clean out his rose garden and be long gone before he could piece his unconventional emotions together. She was a delicate flower and he a fork tongued viper – an unseemly combination that could never be.


	2. Chapter 2

The Lost Beauty: Part Two

Saturday arrived swiftly; Linden secretly prayed to any deity that would listen for Ms. French's scattered brain to forget all about their arranged work day. Their ears must have been closed to him, because at exactly nine o'clock she was standing on his porch, adorned in a crisp white cotton shirt and faded jeans. Her hair was styled in a long braid, and she wore a floppy straw hat to keep out the sun.

"Good morning, Mr. Gold," she greeted him cheerfully, her radiance stealing his breath.

"Good morning, Ms. French," he returned. "How about I show you the state of my garden and then the shed? You may gather whatever tools you wish from my supply."

"That sounds like an excellent idea!" she remarked exuberantly, as if he'd offered to take her to Disneyland instead of behind the house to assess his pitiful rose garden. It was a warm Spring day, and he could already feel his silk shirt sticking to him like a second skin as they journeyed to the back of the house.

Linden watched in quiet observance as she surveyed the state of his garden. She was silent for three eternal minutes, caught up in her own little world as she touched the fragile plants with such tenderness; he secretly wished for her to touch him with the same care. Where had that came from? Linden dispelled the uncanny thought from his mind, clearing his throat awkwardly, hoping to cut through the thick silence.

Belle turned on her heel, now facing him. "There needs to be some pruning, and the bed definitely needs to be weeded. This will probably be an all day job, but I'm up for the challenge. I once attended to a garden much larger than this..." She halted as if she were searching for the words, attempting to piece together a memory which fell away as quickly as it had surfaced.

Linden noted her eyes had glazed over, as if she were lost in a fog, which he assumed was a symptom of the accident. "Ms. French, the shed is just over there, care to accompany me?" he inquired, his voice snapping her out of her daydream.

"Yes, I do apologize, Mr. Gold. Sometimes my mind switches between two realities, and it's hard to differentiate between what's real and what's an illusion conjured up by my subconscious," she explained, following him to the shed.

At a loss for words, he decided not to comment. He merely helped her gather the tools she needed to complete her task and headed back inside. He attempted to go over some ledgers, but his eyes kept drifting to the bay window which overlooked the garden. He stood from his chair, padding to the windowsill. He respired deeply, drawing back the fuchsia curtains to peer out.

Belle French was currently dismounted onto her knees, pulling up weeds. He glanced at his watch, noting two hours had passed. The young woman hadn't brought a thermos with her, and he assumed she must be getting thirsty. He headed to the kitchen, preparing a pitcher of cold lemonade, accompanied by a plate of fresh tuna sandwiches. He hoped she liked tuna because it was all he had.

He carried the items outside. Belle was engrossed in her work and hadn't heard him approaching her. She hummed a lively tune as she cropped back an oversized rosebush.

He cleared his throat again. She halted, turning to meet his gaze. "Mr. Gold," she acknowledged him with a friendly smile.

"Ms. French, I brought you something to drink and a light snack. Lemonade and tuna sandwiches aren't gourmet, but I thought they'd provide you with some much needed sustenance," he remarked, flashing the pitcher.

Belle dusted her hands on her jeans. "Thank you, Mr. Gold. That's very kind of you. Care to join me for a spell? I'd certainly enjoy the company."

Linden froze in place. Alarm bells started going off in his head. It wasn't appropriate for them to be alone, but it was broad daylight. He surmised it wouldn't hurt to engage in a casual conversation with this woman and have a light lunch. His shoulders relaxed, coercing her to follow him to a nearby picnic table.

"We can eat here," he stammered, placing the plate of sandwiches and pitcher on the table.

"How about some cups?" she inquired, noting the lack of dishware.

"Wait here, I'll be right back," he mumbled, inwardly scolding himself for forgetting the glasses. He furtively searched the cupboards, inwardly cursing when he found none. All he had were teacups and a few sparse coffee mugs. He plucked a couple of blue rimmed cups from the cabinet and ran back outside.

He found Belle seated at the table – the breeze tousling a few stray chestnut curls. He averted his gaze, to keep himself from openly gaping at her. "I'm sorry, but all I have are these teacups. I should probably have my housekeeper pick up some new dishware," he chortled nervously.

"It's no matter, Mr. Gold." She waved her hand in dismissal as he handed her a cup. He poured her a glass of lemonade, and she stared at the cup a good long minute before taking a drink. He took a sip of his own tart liquid. What she said next astounded him.

She transfixed her gaze on him – brilliant blue eyes boring into brown. "I once dropped a cup like this and chipped the rim. This man I used to be employed by had a collection of them. I thought he'd be angry at my clumsiness, but he reminded me it was just a cup and not to worry over so such insignificant matters." She laughed jovially, taking another sip.

"Who was your former employer?" he inquired innocently, attempting to make small talk.

Her eyes became so dreadfully melancholy that he wished he could take back his inquiry. "His name is of no importance. He doesn't remember me. No one in this land remembers who they truly are. We're all merely stumbling about, our minds full of false memories. The authentic parts of us are wasting away, rotting until we're completely hollowed out, and there's nothing left but a shell – a shell of who we used to be. I have two minds fighting for dominance. One isn't real, but I'm having a difficult time discerning what's real and what isn't anymore. I wish I could allow myself to let go of the past, but that would be wrong. Everyone just needs to wake up, wake up from this dream were all trapped in."

Linden impulsively reached out to touch her trembling hand, stilling her tumultuous heartbeat. "Ms. French, please let me help you. There must be something I can do to help with these episodes," he found himself offering without hesitation.

"Yes, you can help me," she retorted, leaning in closer. Before he had time to comprehend what was happening, her lips were searing his. He should have pushed her away, put a thousand miles between them, but he couldn't resist the pull, and he found himself kissing her back just as eagerly.

"Please wake up, Rumple," was the last thing she spoke before fainting in his arms, leaving his mind foggy and full of questions.


	3. Chapter 3

The Lost Beauty: Part Three

Gold's breath hitched in his throat as he instinctively reached out to catch her. She fell fluidly into his arms. He didn't have time to register what had happened between them, placing two fingers against her neck to feel for her pulse point. He released the breath he'd been holding, relieved to feel a strong beat.

She'd merely fainted, but he couldn't carry her inside – his bum leg wouldn't permit it. He could call an ambulance, but it might not be wise. They'd throw her back into the asylum, and Gold wouldn't allow his dog to be entrusted in their care – if he'd had one.

Before he had time to mull further over his dilemma, he felt her begin to stir within his arms. He glanced downward. Her blue eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze. "Mr. Gold, what happened?" she rasped, as if she'd forgotten the entire debacle.

"Why, don't you remember, Ms. French? You kissed me," he stated, hoping to jog her memory.

A crimson blush crept across her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, please forgive me, Mr. Gold. As I told you, my head isn't screwed on right. I'll just be going," she mumbled apologetically, rising to her feet.

He placed his hand on her shoulder, halting her. "At least let me drive you," he insisted.

"You can't drive me, Mr. Gold. There's no vehicle which will reach my dwelling," she retorted, baffling him.

"Your father lives on Oak, does he not?" he objected.

"Yes, but I don't. Not anymore, anyway. Papa kicked me out of the house a week ago, told me I was placing a financial strain on him. I took Avonlea, and we live in the woods now. I know which berries to pick, and I can fish from the creek. I have a sleeping bag; we get by," she admitted, shuffling her feet uncomfortably.

Gold felt his blood begin to boil at her admittance. "So you have nowhere to go? Your father banished you, expected you to thrive on your own," he said slowly, his voice lowering a dangerous octave.

"Yes, I promise I'll finish the job soon. I could come back tomorrow," she vowed, her voice fraught.

"No, you won't come back tomorrow, Ms. French. You won't be living in the woods any longer, you'll come and stay with me. My Victorian is enormous; there are plenty of vacant rooms. Your dog, well it can stay too, as long as you keep it away from my suits and clean up after it," he quipped playfully.

"You're serious." She blinked owlishly at his proposal.

"As a heart attack," he supplied.

He felt the breath being knocked out of him as she threw her arms around him, embracing him tightly. "Thank you, Mr. Gold, thank you so much."

"You're welcome," he huffed, patting her back awkwardly, holding back the desire to embrace her fully. 

Belle backed away from him, her gaze calculating. "Are you sure you want this? I'm known as the town lunatic after all; I'm a hazard to everyone around me, including myself," she bit back sarcastically.

Gold shook his head, closing the distance between them. Taking her hand in his, he brushed his calloused fingertips over her knuckles. "I can get you professional help, better than any of the quacks around here have provided you with. I have connections in high places. We can get you some better medication to help stop the episodes, which will allow you to be able to function properly," he replied gently.

Belle nodded amicably. "I'd like that, I want to be able to think freely without feeling like my mind is always clogged with a hundred different memories pulling at me at once – all obsolete puzzle pieces which don't quite fit anywhere."

"I'll make some calls, how about we go pick up your dog?" he suggested.

"Yes, I left him by the toll-bridge. You're a kind man, Mr. Gold." She granted him one of her radiant smiles, causing his heart to swell with emotion. She was wrong about him. He wasn't a good man by anyone's standards, but he would be one for her. He would ensure she only saw the best parts of him.

~X~

Regina overlooked her kingdom – Storybrooke. Something was amiss, she could sense it. She threw back a stiff drink of whiskey, clacking her glass needlessly against the coffee table. It was half-past eight, and she needed to make sure Henry was in bed. He had a bad habit of staying up late, and she was about to put her proverbial foot down. She ascended the spiral staircase, halting in front of his bedroom door. She gave the door a steady knock.

"Henry," she called out. When there was no answer she decided to see if her son was asleep. She pushed open the door, noting a large, boy-sized lump in the middle of the bed. She padded silently over, pulling back the covers, gasping when she saw a mound of pillows instead of her snoozing son.

Henry was gone.

She stalked swiftly to the window; it was slightly ajar, and Regina knew her boy had escaped, but where could he have gone? She hastily stormed back downstairs, retrieving her cellphone. She frantically searched for the sheriff's number, pushing the call button.

"Ms. Mills, how can I assist you this evening?" There was a slight teasing in his voice, and Regina surmised he believed she'd called him because she desired his company.

"This call isn't about that, Graham, so stop thinking with your other head and get over here, now. Something has happened to Henry, he's gone. I need you to come help me look for him," she commanded authoritatively.

"I'm on my way now," he replied hurriedly.

She ended the call, tossing her cellphone haphazardly on the sofa. She picked back up her drink, finishing it off. She wondered where Henry could have traipsed off to. He was merely ten, which meant he couldn't have gone far. They'd find him before the night was over. She'd need to set some new ground rules, her mind already conjuring up an appropriate punishment for the rambunctious preteen, unaware her son was currently on a bus headed for Boston – on a witch hunt to find his birth mother – the curse breaker – the savior whom would right everything.


	4. Chapter 4

The Lost Beauty: Part Four

A/AN: Thank you for all of the support and reviews. This fic will taking elements from S1, but there will also be some originality too, stay tuned!

No one dared cross Regina Mills, unless they desired to have their reputation ruined and name scorned. However hard Mary Margret Blanchard – Henry's fourth grade teacher – tried to stay off of the vengeful woman's radar, she always managed to find herself in a quandary with the mayor of Storybrooke.

It all transpired that night at ten-thirty. Mary Margret had settled down on the sofa with a glass of red wine and her favorite Soaps – the ones she'd prerecorded while she was working. She'd anticipated on a quiet night alone. The loud knock resounding at her door struck fear in her heart, and nearly caused her glass to topple from her hands. 

Mary Margret quickly switched off the television, placing her glass on the evening table, sauntering to the door. Without undoing the latch she unlocked the door, opening it halfway to peep out. She felt her heart leap in her throat when she met Regina's gaze of displeasure. 

"Ms. Blanchard, may I come in?" The Mayor replied curtly, her voice laced with vexation and panic. 

"Yes, absolutely," the short haired woman stammered, swiftly undoing the lock. Regina stalked past her, her heels making an angry clack against the tiled kitchen. The sheriff trailed in behind her, like some obedient dog.

Regina took a seat at her dining room table. She gestured to the chair adjacent from her. "Please, have a seat, Ms. Blanchard," she commanded, flashing her brilliant white teeth at the other woman. 

Mary Margret hesitantly pulled out the chair, seating herself at the table. Her heartbeat thundered loudly within her ears. She felt her palms dampening with perspiration. She willed herself to stay calm, before she ended up hyperventilating in front of the most influential woman in Storybrooke.

Regina folded her hands on the table. Graham wordlessly stood in the background, silently observing the pair – a lioness about to strike an antelope. 

"Ms. Blanchard, I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but Henry has gone missing," Regina spoke, her face contorting into a grave expression. 

"No! I had no idea!" Mary Margret exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. 

"Well he has, the sheriff arrived an hour and a half ago. We searched his room and found this," Regina stated, removing a thin piece of plastic from her handbag and sliding it across the table to the unsuspecting teacher. 

"My credit card?" she queried, picking up the card to examine it. 

"Yes, it seems my son has turned into a delinquent overnight. We checked his computer search history and there was a recent purchase for a bus ticket to Boston. My question is, why would Henry desire to go there?" The Mayor's gaze sharpened as she stared daggers at the woman across the table. 

Mary Margret shrugged. "I'm not sure, Mayor Mills. Henry hasn't discussed any of this with me. I'm just as unsuspecting as you are," she reassured her.

Regina's mouth twisted into a malicious smirk. "I don't believe that's completely truthful, Ms. Blanchard. Henry is a loner, I'm aware of that. I'm about to file a missing person's report with the Boston City Police. When they find Henry, he will talk, perhaps not to me, but he'll talk to someone else. And if I find out you've influenced him in any way, I'll rip your name to shreds!" 

Mary Margret gripped the edge of her chair as Regina stormed out of her flat in a fury. She barely registered the door slamming behind her until the Sheriff placed a calming hand on her shoulder. "We'll find the boy, Ms. Blanchard. Try not to fret over this; Regina is just upset," Graham told her. His attempt to be comforting had lost its effect. It didn't matter what he said, Mary Margret knew she was innocent, however she was also aware Graham would go along with whatever Regina said. If the Mayor aimed to destroy her, then he would throw the gasoline on the fire of her reputation Regina meant to ignite into flame. 

Mary Margret stiffened, opting to say nothing as the sheriff left her home. She was thankful they were both gone. She latched the door, rubbing her aching temples. It was futile to believe she'd get any sleep tonight. She was tempted to call out sick tomorrow, but Regina would become suspicious. No, she was trapped until Henry was found, safe and sound. If he wasn't, then she could kiss her own life goodbye, because she knew nothing was beneath Regina – not even murder.

~X~

Gold knew it was wrong to spy on her. As pale moonlight filtered through her bedroom window, he couldn't help but stand in the doorway, gazing upon her unworldly beauty. Avonlea slept on the edge of her bed - her forever loyal protector. Chestnut tresses splayed behind her, and he longed to touch her silken waves, thread his calloused fingers through its woven silk. He placed his hand on the knob, ready to close the door and retire to his own chambers. He halted as he heard her mumbling in her sleep. 

"Darkness, so dark. The curse, it will drown us all. Marionettes, we're all under her control. Must fight it, true love will prevail. The savior will come; the curse will be broken!" she howled, lurching up in bed, holding her head in agony. 

Avonlea jumped on the bed, barking frantically. Linden rushed to her side, his cane clattering to the floor – forgotten as he pulled her into his arms. Belle's eyes fluttered open, transfixing on him. She reached up to caress his face.

"The Savior is coming to Storybrooke, Rumple. She will set everything right and you'll remember, and we can be together." Her voice was a tender caress to his tattered soul, and he knew it was merely another delusion, likely conjured from a dream. However, when she leaned upwards to capture his lips in a fervent kiss, he became powerless to stop her. The powerful and enigmatic Mr. Gold was under a mad woman's thrall. As he lost himself within the way her petal soft lips grazed his, her supple curves pressed against him, he barely registered the sound of chiming in the distance. The clock had began to move again, and things were drastically changing. As a yellow Volkswagen Beetle crossed the town line, the curse began to wane, and Rumpelstiltskin slowly begun to feel himself awakening.


	5. Chapter 5

The Lost Beauty: Part Five

A/AN: This chapter paints what life was like for Belle and Rumple in the Dark Castle. I did have smut, but I want to keep this fic at a teen rating, so I decided to remove it. Sorry, guys! The chapter has been modified to fit the rating.

Pre-curse: The Enchanted Forest – the Dark Castle

Belle sat on the edge of Rumpelstiltskin's long table, drumming her fingers against the wood absentmindedly. He stole a glance at her, presently preoccupied with his cup of chamomile tea.

"What are you doing, Belle?" he inquired curiously.

She met his gaze, grinning lazily. "Thinking about how we've not went away in awhile, Husband."

The title still felt aloof to him, but the woman in front of him had willingly agreed to be his bride. It had merely started out as an arranged marriage – her hand in exchange for sparing her kingdom from the ogres; she'd warmed up to him, and he felt too powerless not to fall for her womanly charms and radiance. He'd forgotten how he'd craved the light until she'd came into his life – demanding he un-nail the curtains to allow the sunlight to filter through. He'd relished the light from the outside, along with the light she exuded on the inside.

He still couldn't fathom how this ethereal creature desired him. He stood from his chair, coming to stand in front of her. Delicately seizing her wrists, his heart skipped in his chest – her eyes reflecting pure love and adoration. He caressed her cheek tenderly. "And where would you like to venture off to, Belle-of-mine?" he inquired.

"Somewhere exotic, perhaps Agrabah. I've heard legends of a mysterious place called: The Cave of Wonders," she revealed.

Rumpelstiltskin kissed her forehead affectionately. "We could go there. Soon, I promise. But not today."

"How come?" she quizzed, her countenance falling.

"Because I have something important to attend to. However we shall go, one day in the near future," he swore.

"Good," she sighed, pressing her lips against his in a fervent kiss. A low rumble erupted from the back of his throat, and his lips moved down the base of her neck until she was writhing on the table and tugging at his doublet. Without hesitation he'd magicked them to their chambers, and they spent the rest of the afternoon lost in throes of passion.

The following day Regina made a visit to the castle, uninvited as usual. He arranged to keep Belle out of her sight. He wouldn't allow his wife to become a bargaining chip, ever. If Regina suspected there was someone he actually loved, then she'd by all means try and annihilate them, just to spite him.

"You should really keep this place cleaner, Rumple. Hire yourself a maid or something," she commented, sliding her finger across the table's dusty surface.

Rumpelstiltskin smirked in satisfaction – the knowledge Regina had just touched the surface of the table he and Belle had recently defiled, filling him with amusement.

"What's so funny!?" she demanded agitatedly.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing, now go on and tell me, why you here, your Majesty?" he implored, his voice sharp and impatient.

"You know why I'm here. I'm here because it's time you honor our deal. Give me what you owe me," she demanded, her almond brown eyes blackening.

"And what deal was that, dearie?" he inquired dumbly, folding his hands into a steeple.

Regina straightened her shoulders, attempting to intimidate the imp but her display of regalia held no sway over him. He was left unaffected and unamused. He'd trained Regina when she was still a skittish and demure queen.

"The curse, it's time to start planning for everyone's eternal damnation!" she cackled evilly.

He felt his blood run cold, his mind flashing to his wee wife, settled upstairs in a cozy nook in the library, engrossed in a novel. The thought of her made his blackened heart pulsate with agony.

"No, you're not ready. there's still much left to prepare for before you enact the curse," he stated dismissively.

"Like what!?" she questioned, vehement.

"When your training is complete, then I'll be glad to inform you, your Majesty." He pretended to swipe a nonexistent piece of dust from his cloak to deflect away from her foul mood.

Regina turned on her heel, storming out of the castle without another word. He flinched upon hearing the door slam. Slumping forwards in his chair, he rubbed his throbbing temples, glad to be rid of her.

His eyes fluttered open when he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. He gazed up to find Belle looking at him, concerned.

"Rumple, are you alright? you look upset," she noted.

"Yes, I'm fine, my love," he sighed, pulling her onto his lap. She petted his hair, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent deeply.

He must find Bae, but he knew when the curse was enacted, he and Belle will be separated for twenty eight long years, and he found his heart unable to bear it.


	6. Chapter 6

The Lost Beauty: Part Six

Storybrooke: Present Day

Emma Swan felt like the last several hours of her life were a vicious whirlwind of all of her past mistakes coming back to bite her in the ass. One moment she was blowing out a solitary candle on top of her pathetic birthday dessert, and the next minute some random kid was showing up at her door, claiming to be her son. The kid -Henry- had been insistent. She wasn't sure what had compelled her not to call child services. She was humoring them both by making this long car drive back to a town she couldn't pinpoint on a single map.

Henry had rambled on and on about how the town was cursed. The residents of Storybrooke were all actually fairytale characters, forced to take on a cursed alias. He'd claimed it was his adoptive mother's doing. Apparently she was the Evil Queen, but Emma had downplayed his overly descriptive word painting of her. It wasn't uncommon for young boys to not get along with their mothers.

Henry had directed her to park beside the curb, then had taken her hand and led her up the driveway to an immaculate mansion. Emma smoothed out her leather red jacket, expecting a demoness surrounded by the flames of hellfire to answer the door. She was pleasantly surprised to see a raven haired woman wearing a business suit instead.

"Henry, where were you!?" Regina replied sternly, pulling the adolescent boy to her chest.

"I wanted to know who my birth mom was, and I found her; Mom, meet Emma Swan,” he returned, gesturing to Emma, nonchalantly.

Emma placed one hand on her hip, scuffing her boot against the porch. "I'm sorry for the trouble. I returned him, wanted to make sure he arrived home safely," she remarked awkwardly.

"I appreciate that, Ms. Swan; Henry can be a bit of a handful at times," she replied curtly, wishing she could conjure up a spell to be rid of her.

Emma could sense the tension building in the air. Invisible sparks were emanating from the other woman. The bail-bonds woman could sense she was furious, and if looks could kills, Emma knew she'd be a pile of ash settled on her stoop.

"I'm Regina Mills, Mayor of Storybrooke. I assume you'll be getting back to Boston?" Regina tilted her head slightly, gripping Henry's shoulders possessively.

"Um yeah, soon, but not tonight. It was an awfully long drive, and I could use some sleep. Where are some good places to crash?" Emma asked, causing Regina to fume inwardly.

"Yes, Granny's has an inn adjoining their diner, just up the road," she added, her gaze deadly.

"Emma, wanna have breakfast with me in the morning? I could show you the sights," Henry suggested exuberantly

Emma got a strange sense of satisfaction watching the mayor's face contort into a look becoming of someone who'd just swallowed a poisoned apple. "Henry, how about we both show her around?" The Evil Queen managed to mask her vexation, attempting to appear pleasant in front of her Son without blowing a gasket.

"But you have to work," Henry stated pointedly.

Regina shook her head. "I can take off anytime I see fit, besides, you have school tomorrow, young man," she remarked authoritatively.

"But I wanna see Emma! You know, my other mom!?" Henry turned on his heel, staring the serpent right in the eyes. Emma gasped at the way he'd loosely used the paternal term, just to get under his mother's skin.

Regina's eyes turned dark with ire. She was trying extremely hard to keep her rage in check, but the blonde woman knew she was about to blow. A sense of protectiveness eclipsed her senses as she reached out to snatch Henry away from the other woman.

"What do you think you're doing, Ms. Swan!?" Regina thundered, reaching out to grab him.

"Oh, I dunno, protecting him!? You appear as if you were about to strike him! Henry has this woman ever hurt you in any way?" Emma asked the boy, touching his shoulders gently, and stooping down to his level.

Regina crossed her arms under her breasts, enraged. "You need to get off my property this instant, Ms. Swan, before I call the authorities!" she threatened, her expression menacing.

"No, she's never hurt me, but you should go. I'll find a way to see you," Henry whispered, relaxing his grip on his birth mother, reluctantly releasing her. He darted around Regina and back inside the house.

The Mayor gave her go-to-hell look and slammed the door in her face. Emma cringed at the sound of the door, turning on her heel to head back to her vehicle. Since she'd arrived, all she could think about was leaving and returning to her mundane life in the city. But now, all she wanted to do was stay and make sure her birth Son got away from his evil mother's clutches. As she put the car in drive and sped away, she knew she had a new mission: to save Henry.

~X~

Belle awoke the following morning, her countenance serene. Her mind felt clearer than it had in years as she turned her head to see Linden snoozing soundly beside her. He'd fallen right back into her arms after twenty eight long years. It's what some would call a miracle, but Belle called it instinct - the power of true love. He may not have remembered her, but he mapped out her body the previous night as if she'd never left his side. Things were shifting, as if someone had taken a bag of jigsaw pieces and shook them up and then poured them onto the ground. It's how events would continue to play out as the Savior gathered all of the pieces and righted the wrongs in their little realm.

At that moment, Linden stirred, opening his eyes hazily. He smiled, reaching up to cup her face gently. "I had the most fascinating dream last night. I was a scaled monster, and you were dressed in the most magnificent golden ball gown I'd ever seen, like you had just stepped out of a fairy tale or something. Tell me, am I still dreaming?" He asked, his sable eyes alight with something between asleep and awake. He was slowly transitioning back into his real self again.

"No, my love, that was real." She let out a watery chuckle, kissing him with such fierceness, she imagined it driving the rest of the effects of the curse from his body.

He pulled her flush against him, rolling her over onto her back, aligning their bodies and making love to her with such desperation. Belle knew her husband had come home to her as he rocked his hips against hers, his eyes filling with realization.

"Belle, I remember," he grunted, filling her body with his sweet release. She patted his back consolingly as he wept into the crook of her neck.

"Welcome home, Rumple, how I've missed you," she whispered ardently.


	7. Chapter 7

The Lost Beauty: Part Seven

A/AN: More Dark Castle this chapter. 

The Enchanted Forest: The Dark Castle: Many Years Ago

Belle stormed into the great hall. Rumplestiltskin trailed behind her hurriedly. She was vexed by the news he'd just revealed – his plan to allow Regina to cast a curse which would whisk them all away to a land without magic. It was the only way to be reunited with his long, lost son, Baelfire. 

"Belle, please," he tried to reason with her, but any logical explanation for damning their entire realm didn't have one.

Belle turned on her heel, hot, angry tears cascading down her ashen cheeks. "How could you, Rumple!? It's selfish and inconsiderate to curse everyone and take away their memories!" She stalked towards him, balling her hands into petite fists. She beat them against his chest until she collapsed within his arms, sobbing. 

He stroked her hair, apologizing profusely. "I'm so sorry, Belle, but it's the only way I'll ever be reunited with my son. He's in this realm, but it's without magic, making it impossible to portal jump. If I don't go through with this then I'll never see him again," he reasoned with her, hoping she would look deep within her heart and be able to understand his dilemma. 

She stilled within his arms, peering up to gaze within his amber orbs. "And what about us? Will we recognize each other in this new land?"

He brought her knuckles to his lips, brushing a reverent kiss across them. "I don't know, but I do know that in twenty-eight years the curse will be broken. You have to have faith in our true love, Belle. I know it will carry us through and reunite us in the end."

Belle nodded her head fervently. "I do believe, Rumple, but I'm afraid, too," she confided.

"I promise you that it'll be okay," he vowed. 

"I don't want to spend our last moments in turmoil. How long until the curse reaches us?" she inquired.

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. "We have a few days left. I passed the curse off to Regina earlier this morning. There are still a few matters for her to get in order before it's cast," he revealed.

Belle nodded in understanding. "I'm still cross with you, Rumple, and I don't wish to be. I'm still trying to wrap my mind around how this is the only way." She worried her lower lip with uncertainty. 

Rumplestiltskin cupped his wife's face in his hands ardently. "Belle, if there were another way, I wouldn't have gone this route. For over two centuries, I've traveled down many paths, searching for a way to be reunited with him."

"We will find our way back to each other then, and then bring Baelfire home," she replied, her frown twitching into a somber smile.

"Yes, and he's going to simply adore you, sweetheart," he said, holding her close.

"I don't want to spend our final hours in mourning. How about a picnic in the gardens?" Belle suggested, gathering his hands in her own.

"That sounds like a fine idea," he replied, allowing her to lead him out of the great hall and into the warm sunshine. When they reached the gardens, they spread a blanket across the soft grass and had tea and Belle's favorite sandwiches. They momentarily dispelled the curse from their minds and enjoyed an afternoon filled with intellectual conversation and passionate lovemaking. He committed these memories to detail, hoping they would some how comfort him on a lonely and cold night when he was without her embrace. He wouldn't realize anything was missing, but his subconscious would surely allow her to appear in his dreams, blanketing him in her radiance.

No longer looming over them, the day finally arrived. Belle stood by the window, watching an ominous cloud of purple smoke descend rapidly upon them. Just a couple of hours ago, she was curled up on the settee, engrossed in one of her favorite novels when he'd alerted her of the current happenings. The curse had already swallowed up the other occupants of the Enchanted Forest, and they would be the last. He'd told her it was the only way he'd ever see his son again. She understood his reasoning, but it still seemed a high price to pay, concerning everyone else's livelihood was at stake. Belle refused to be angry, choosing to cling to her husband during their final moments before it all slipped away.

"Rumple, I'm afraid!" His wife confessed in a quivering voice.

"Don't worry, my dear, when you wake up, you won't remember a thing. In twenty-eight years the curse will be broken. There's no need to be afraid," he crooned in his velvety brogue, making her shiver. She clung to him, clenching her eyes shut as the purple smog engulfed them. She felt her vision wane as she welcomed the oncoming darkness.


	8. Chapter 8

The Lost Beauty: Part Eight

Storybrooke: Present Day

A/AN: Yes, this hasn't been updated in ages. I'm hoping to begin updating my fics again, slowly but surely.

Emma Swan laid sprawled across the mattress, counting the star flecks dotting the popcorn ceiling. She'd spent the night at a homely inn, adjoining Granny's Diner. Over twenty-four hours ago, life was predictable and mundane, but now it felt like utter chaos. Her long, lost son had shown up after running away from his adoptive mother – not that she could blame him after meeting the she-devil. She could use a strong drink and a shrink after the previous night's events.

She felt stuck. She couldn't just tuck her tail and run back to Boston – not with, Henry's life at stake. Perhaps, Regina Mills, wasn't conceived from the bowels of hell, but she certainly wasn't a saint. Emma rubbed her aching temples, mumbling an expletive under her breath as she rolled out of bed. It was half past six, and she hadn't gotten a wink of shuteye.

Today she would do some snooping. She needed to get a good feel of how things were run in Storybrooke before she made any hasty assumptions. She would start with a cup of coffee from the diner. The quality of coffee at a town's eating establishments said a lot about a place. She dug through her suitcase of meager belongings. Henry had barely given her any time to scrape a substantial amount of clothing and toiletries together.

She hurriedly brushed her teeth, threw her hair into a messy bun and donned her signature red leather jacket. It was her armor and made her feel a lot less vulnerable in strange, unpredictable places. She was certain Storybrooke won the award for the most unusual town she'd ever stumbled upon.

Making her way downstairs, Emma noticed a girl standing at the counter. Dark hair framed her face, and she was adorned in skimpy, red waitress uniform. She was glancing down at the guest registry, thumbing through a list of names.

Emma brushed blonde locks from her eyes, clearing her throat awkwardly. The young woman met her gaze. "How was your stay, Miss-" she halted, pining for a name.

"Swan, Emma Swan," the blonde clarified.

"Emma, what a lovely name." A smooth, velvety brogue resounded from behind.

Emma turned to meet a pair of soulful sable eyes – a pair of eyes which held a million secrets, she couldn't begin to unravel. They belonged to a man, adorned in an expensive Dolce and Gabbana suit. Shoulder length graying hair partially hung in his eyes; Emma found him becoming of a wolf.

"Uh thanks." She paused, holding his gaze for three fleeting seconds before the woman behind the counter interrupted, her tone unsteady.

"Mr. Gold, are you here for the rent?" she replied timidly, revealing his surname.

"It would appear to be rent day, wouldn't you agree, Ms. Lucas?" he stated pointedly, his gaze sharpening.

"Um, yeah, I have it all right here!" The girl replied, digging out a stack of rubber-banded bills from a black bag. Emma stepped aside, observing their exchange. Gold licked his index finger, leafing through the bills. The Lucas girl watched in anticipation.

Mr. Gold placed the wad of bills in his coat pocket. "It's all here, until next month, Mrs. Lucas." He nodded formally at her before slipping out the door, but not before turning to address Emma again. "Ms. Swan, if I can be of any assistance to you, my pawn shop is directly across the street. Have a nice day, and I hope you'll enjoy your stay in Storybrooke," he added cryptically.

When he'd left and was out of earshot, the scantily, clad woman addressed her once more. "I'd stay far away from him if I were you. Mr. Gold isn't a force to be reckoned with. He owns half the town."

Emma shoved her hands in her jean pockets, shrugging. "I'll need to reserve my room for a few more nights." She was uninterested in small town gossip.

"Sure, we hope you'll stay as long as you'd like." The girl smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Emma knew she was hiding something, but it seemed everyone in this town wasn't who she perceived them to be.

After paying the girl for another three nights at the inn – who she later learned was, Ruby - the bed-and-breakfast owner's granddaughter. Emma journeyed to the diner. She ordered herself a black coffee, accompanied by two scrambled eggs with toast.

"So, you must be the newbie in town everyone is talking about." A gentle, feminine voice broke the uncomfortable silence, which had settled over her like an ominous cloud.

Emma blinked owlishly, glancing up to meet a woman with black hair – styled in a short pixie cut. She was wearing a white cardigan and black skirt. "Yeah, news must travel at lightning speeds around here," she chuckled dryly, drawing the cup to her lips and sipping generously. She hoped to evade the other woman by pretending she was extremely interested in her coffee, but she hadn't budged – standing there, clueless.

"Yeah, well not many eventful things happen around here. Any slight hiccup doesn't go unnoticed for long. I'm Mary Margret, by the way. Do you care if I join you?" She simultaneously introduced herself and requested to invade her space.

Emma suppressed the urge to groan in response, gesticulating to the empty booth across from her. "Emma Swan, and take a seat."

Mary Margret smiled coyly, folding her hands in her lap. Emma wordlessly picked up her cup again, draining the rest of her black coffee. When had she ever drank black coffee? This town was slowly worming its way under her skin.

She sat the cup down with a satisfying clack. "So, I'm sure you've heard the breaking news then. Henry's birth mother is back in the picture," she retorted sarcastically.

Mary Margret blushed scarlet. "T-T-That might be my fault," she mumbled under her breath.

Emma furrowed a brow. "How so?"

Mary Margret worried her lower lip until the pink flesh turned blood red. "Well, he kind of stole my credit card." Before Emma could prod her for more information, the waitress from the inn had stopped by their table.

"Can I get you anything else, Ms. Swan? Mary Margret?" she inquired to the raven haired woman.

"Some hot chamomile tea will do," Mary Margret supplied.

"More black coffee for me," Emma remarked, holding up her empty cup.

"So, you're saying my birth son is a delinquent, then? Man, I really need to teach him a lesson on ethics, don't I? It's obvious Satan isn't doing that," Emma retorted, her eyes flashing with ire.

Mary Margret held up her hand in response. "Please, I know Mayor Mills may seem crass, but she's a wonderful mother to, Henry. He's in my homeroom class, and I've witnessed it, but for the past few months he's been restless. I gave him a storybook not too long ago. It's filled with these classic fairy tales, and soon he began to believe they weren't just made up stories. I think, perhaps as a coping mechanism, it's what prompted him to come find you. No matter how good a child has it, it doesn't mean they don't desire to know why they were given up or who their real parents are."

Emma stiffened at her stinging response. "Perhaps I should stick around for awhile and let him get to know me."

"I think that would be a fine idea, but you should certainly be wary of the mayor. She won't like this idea at all, and please, don't insinuate I put this notion in your head," the other woman remarked apologetically – her countenance paling in response.

Emma snorted. "For one thing, I'm no snitch."

Mary Margret chortled musically, relief flooding her face. "Good to know."

~X~

Mr. Gold straightened his tie, his mind still whirling with authentic memories. For twenty-eight long years, the curse had kept his brain in a fog. He'd taken the deranged Ms. French to bed the previous night, and woken up to discover she was his true love from the other land. They were both awake, which was exhilarating, yet complicated.

They would both have to be discreet, or Regina would find out. Belle had sensed the long-awaited savior had finally arrived in town, and she'd prompted him to search for her. He'd rather have lazed in bed all day with his new-found wife, but he also had a reputation to uphold, and it was rent day. He'd stopped at the first place he thought she'd be – Granny's B&B. As fate would have it, she was right where he had expected.

Emma Swan...

She was truly here, which meant he was one step closer to finding, Baelfire. His heart beat with anticipation, as he imagined what this would mean for him and his family.


End file.
